


Justly done

by blakefancier



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-26
Updated: 2011-04-26
Packaged: 2017-10-18 16:28:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/190889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blakefancier/pseuds/blakefancier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Trial AU. What if they hadn't stumbled on Blake's message right away?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Justly done

They don't come for Blake. He waits as long as he can, but they never appear. For a moment, Blake can't breathe; he's crushing under the weight of despair and grief. Scenarios run through his mind, fast and frantic excuses, oh, yes he knows they're excuses. He won't lie to himself.

He tries the communicator on his bracelet, but there's no response. He allows himself to mourn, just a few seconds, and then he takes a deep breath.

He moves.

*****

Blake keeps coming back to the rendezvous point, at least at first. The reminder hurts, but the pain is better than the numbness of exhaustion or the low level hum of fear.

At night, when he's wrapped in a tight little ball, tucked into an abandoned eggshell, he speaks into the communicator: angry whispers and desperate pleas, words tripping and choking him.

At some point, he stops. The words dry up. Die.

*****

He can't stay in one place for too long, then he won't stay in one place for too long. One never knows when the Host will resume its consumption. He sleeps when he can, eats when he can, and sometimes, he helps the children from their shells, brushing the fragile shards from their cool, scaly bodies.

He's tired and his dreams are filled with Oneness and surrender.

*****

Sometimes, Blake falters. Sometimes, he stops, head tipped back, eyes closed, and feels the sun on his face. Sometimes, he almost doesn't move when he feels the rumble of the earth underneath him.

*****

It takes them six months to find the message. He finds out later that it's by accident, that Vila, in a drunken ramble, manages to say the correct trigger words.

*****

He doesn’t say anything when they teleport him up, they say enough with their relieved smiles that don't quite reach their eyes. Only Avon is honest, he doesn't smile or offer false words of comfort.

Blake moves past them, ignoring their words of protest. He doesn’t need the medical unit; he needs nothing but the movement of his body.

Survival.

He eats first, shoveling food into his mouth, eating as quickly as he can before he has to move again. He feels too sharp, too jagged, for Liberator now. All his smoothness has been peeled away.

When he's done, he moves again. Where to next? Shelter? Warm clothing? Sleep? His eyes dart from one place to the next and the buzz of machinery sounds like the insects on planet. Shelter first. The rest can wait.

He turns and is stopped by a hand grabbing his wrist, Jenna grabbing his wrist. He makes a questioning sound and tugs gently.

"Not yet, Blake," she says, her voice soft with regret.

He should have known, should have guessed, but he's forgotten their movements. The tranquilizer pad that Avon places on his arm is cold and slick and dangerous.

Blake shakes his head and whispers a horrified no, but it's too late.

Is this surrender, he wonders?

*****

When Blake comes to, he fights the panicked urge to move. He keeps his breathing even, his body relaxed.

They're arguing and he almost laughs.

"You can't be serious, Avon," Jenna says, her voice clipped and hard.

"I am always serious, Jenna. Just because you have your fearless leader back doesn't mean that I'm going to rejoin the rebellion."

"When did you join in the first place?" Vila's voice is worried and Blake can practically hear him fidget.

"There are five million credits worth of uncut gems on that freighter and we are not going to miss this chance because of your guilt, Jenna!"

"Just her guilt, Avon?" Cally now. Unlike Vila and Jenna, she doesn't sound worried at all.

"Certainly not mine!"

They sound like criminals. He always forgets that they were thieves and smugglers first. Except for Cally. He must have made a sound or moved, because the conversation stops.

He opens his eyes and licks his lips. Words no longer come easy to him. He no longer remembers their shape, their sound, only the feel of his tripping tongue remains. Still, the desperation in him grows.

"Let me up." His voice is raspy with disuse.

"Not yet." Cally smiles down at him and touches his forehead.

He jerks away, tries to jerk away, but he realizes they have him in restraints and his panic intensifies. "No! No, let me go! Go!"

They don't understand, stillness is death, stillness is losing Oneness! He struggles harder, his words degenerating into grunts and moans.

This time, when the darkness takes him, Blake sees it coming.

*****

The next time he wakes, he doesn't bother pretending to be unconscious. He opens his eyes and is greeted by Cally's smile.

"How do you feel?"

Blake doesn't struggle, but he tenses and relaxes his muscles, hoping it is enough to quell his restlessness. "Better, thank you. Why... Why am I restrained?"

"You were in some distress when we teleported you up. We felt it might be safer for you if you rested."

He wants to scream at her to let him go. Instead, he tenses for three heartbeats, and then relaxes. "I'm not in distress anymore."

"You're safe, Blake." She briefly touches his forehead.

Am I, he thinks? "Of course I am." He smiles at her. "Please?"

She stills for a few moments, then sighs and undoes the restraints.

Blake doesn't jump off the exam bed. He forces himself to move slowly, forces himself to smile at her. "Thank you, Cally." He runs his hands over his hair and grimaces. "I need a shower."

"Your cabin is untouched." Cally hesitates. "I'm glad you're back."

"So am I." He can lie, too.

*****

He's a ghost, a ghost moving through the corridors, sleeping a few hours here and sneaking a few there. He knows all the dark, warm spots one can hide. He knows all the secret places. This used to be his ship.

It isn't his ship anymore. He feels the difference when he's with the others and he sees the look of triumph in Avon's eyes when they discuss strategy. Theft. They lose more than they gain. Blake can tell them why if only they asked.

But they don't ask. And he's not a thief, strictly speaking.

*****

Blake dreams every time he closes his eyes. He dreams that the ground opens up and swallows him or that the walls of the Liberator's corridors slowly close in on him, like a throat, crushing him.

He wakes, sweaty and shaking, a scream dying on his lips.

The dreams are his cue to move. And he does. He moves along the corridor, stepping as gently as possible. Quiet.

"Skulking, Blake?"

The words cut the silence and he gasps softly. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "No."

"Really?" Avon gives him a not-smile. "Then what are you doing, Blake?"

"Nothing." He shifts from one foot to the other.

"We've all noticed that."

Blake can't do this anymore. He's too tired for these games. All they do is flay him. He moves quickly, and Avon gives a surprised 'ah.' He shoves Avon against the wall, shoves him hard and kisses him. He wants to bruise his mouth; he wants to stop pretending that Avon doesn't want this. That he doesn't want this.

He doesn't think that Avon will surrender, until he does. Avon grasps his shirt and kisses back, his teeth sinking into Blake's lower lip.

It's good, so good. He wants more and more and more. He wants Avon moaning and crying out and surrendering. Blake wants to surrender, too, just for a bit.

He almost has it, then he hears a surprised gasp and Cally is saying Avon's name in a pained tone. And Avon's fighting him, shoving him away and he lets go. Cally turns and hurries away.

Avon glares at Blake, and then follows.

He licks the blood from his bottom lip and pushes off from the wall. How long, he wonders? Before or after they left me?

Which would be worse?

*****

Blake remembers how to pretend. He sits on the flight deck couch, letting Jenna get used to his presence, letting her relax. He chuckles softly to catch her attention.

"You look happy," he says, his voice light.

She looks up at him, a slight smile on her face. "Do I?"

"Oh, yes. I'm glad, you deserve to be happy."

"Even if I am a thief and a smuggler?" She's teasing him, flirting.

He smiles at her and tilts his head. "Yes. I know you might not believe that, but it's true. My time on the Host, that planet, changed me. I'm happy that you're happy. That you're all happy. Well, maybe not Cally and Avon."

"What do you mean?"

"They seem upset with one another."

She snorts. "They're always arguing."

"Really? I hadn't notice before." He wipes his hands on his trousers and fights the urge to rock.

"Well, they haven't been together long, only about four standard months."

"Oh." He clenches his fists and swallows back the words threatening to spill from his mouth. He gets to his feet, a sudden movement that startles Jenna. Before she can ask him what's wrong, he hurries out of the room.

They left him and moved on and he feels so absurdly angry. He wants to hate them. He wants them to shatter. He wants to tear them to pieces. He wants to be a part of them again. He wants them to want him to be a part of them again.

Then, he stops. He stops right in the middle of the corridor. He doesn't move, no matter how much he wants to. He stills and waits for the ground to open up. He surrenders. He surrenders but nothing happens.

He closes his eyes. He remembers kissing Avon. He remembers how he tasted of marmalade and coffee and how he was warm and soft and human.

He wants that.

That's what he wants.

*****

He's not afraid of the Host anymore. He offered up his surrender and it was rejected. All that's left now is living.

*****

Blake waits until Cally is scheduled to be on the flight deck before he goes to Avon’s cabin. He stands at the door, staring at the announcer, his mouth dry, his hands sweaty. He almost turns away, but at the last moment, he presses the door announcer and waits.

"What is it?"

"It's Blake. I need to speak with you." He doesn't know if Avon will let him in, he shouldn't.

There's a long pause and he's sure that Avon will just ignore him. Then he says, "Enter."

Avon's a fool, but so is he. The door slides open and he walks in; the door shuts behind him.

"What do you want, Blake?" Avon isn't looking at him, Blake doesn't know if that makes it easier or harder.

"I want to talk about the Liberator, about what you're doing with it." He slowly rocks on his heels.

"Ah." Avon turns to him and there's a look on his face, angry and sharp. "So you think you can take the Liberator from me, do you?"

"Is that what I said?" Blake clenches his hands and forces himself to be still. "Although, you have to admit, you're not doing a very good job."

"Unlike you, Blake? You'll notice they're all still alive." Avon circles him, coming closer with each revolution until he's standing right in front of him.

He doesn't flinch. "That's true."

"I told you I would have Liberator and I do. It's mine now, and you're never going to get it back!"

"All right." Blake leans in. He gives Avon enough time to move away, he knows he does, but still their lips touch.

It's good—-no, no, it's better than good. Avon's mouth opens under his and their hands are tugging and pulling at each other's clothes. And he can't get close enough, not even if he were to crawl into Avon's skin. He can have this, and it will be enough. It will be perfect.

He can feel when Avon changes his mind. Avon's body stiffens, pulls away, then he shoves Blake.

And Blake stumbles, falls on his arse.

"No! I won't allow you to manipulate me again, Blake!" Avon's hands are clenched and he looks ready to beat him.

He opens his mouth to tell him that it's not manipulation, that what he wants is real, that Avon can have the damn ship, if only Blake can have this. But he knows that Avon will never believe him.

So he closes his eyes and whispers, "I surrender." Then he opens his eyes and says, "At least put me off on Lindor."

"Get out!" Avon takes a step towards him and Blake scrambles to his feet.

"Avon..." He holds out his hands in acquiescence.

"Fine, now get out!"

He does.

*****

They are all waiting for him when he arrives at the teleport room. They look anxious and relieved and now he knows why they are here: not just to say goodbye, but also to make sure nothing of him lingers. He puts on a bracelet and smiles at them.

Only Vila smiles back.

I wish I knew what happened to you, he wants to say, but instead he steps onto the teleport bay. "Good luck."

"You, too, Blake." Now Jenna smiles at him, but he can tell it's not real.

Avon dismisses him with a look, then leans over and hits the button for teleport.

There's a moment of panic as he looks around, but he reminds himself that the Host is far away. He drops the bracelet onto the dirt and grinds it to nothing with his heel.

Then he takes a deep breath and heads north towards the capital.


End file.
